Promises
by ablackfish
Summary: SQ Fake Dating!AU : Regina Mills is a single mother, dreading facing another holiday stag (knowing full well, her mother plans on matching her up with their creepy family friend). She mentions this to the bartender, Ruby and next thing she knows Regina has an ad on craigslist, and an inquiry from bugsandbiceps23. It surely is looking to be an eventful holiday season for Ms. Mills.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Important to note that there are some Spanish phrases used here that will not translate (or at least translate contextually). "No tengo el chichi pa farolillos" literally translates roughly to "I don't have a pussy for small lanterns" but it means "I don't have time for this shit". And Juera (Guera in Mexican-Spanish) is Spanish slang for white (American) -girl. "Hijo de la gran puta" means "son of a giant whore" and "te doy una hostia que te visto de torero" translates to "I'll give you a slap that will dress you as a bullfighter" but basically means "I'm gonna kill/hurt/whatever you".**

The holidays always brought out a special kind of stress in Regina Mills. The impending forced family time, with the added pressure of making sure her presents and behavior passed her mother's scrutiny enough to make Regina drink herself under a table. Her skin crawling at how much her mother is able to get under her skin, and she clenches her fist, letting out a sharp exhale. Yes, the holidays were certainly a straining time.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, and taps the bar counter. Ruby glances over, her dark eyes catching Regina's, and she smirks. Sauntering towards her with a bottle of scotch, "Stressed, are we?"

Regina takes a grateful sip from her newly refilled glass, raising her brows in response. "You could say that," she says as the glass hits the counter.

"Oh, come on, now. Tell mama what's got ya' down," Ruby pouts her lips out, leaning forward on the counter and leaving hardly anything to the imagination chest-wise, as she does so.

"You know I hate it when you call yourself that," she informs with another slow sip of scotch. "But if you must know, you prying wolf, it's my mother."

Ruby scrunches her nose. She turns and takes a glass from the rack, "Now _I'm_ going to need a drink. What's the wicked woman up to now?"

The older woman sighs, toying with the gold band on her finger. "Nothing more than her usual antics, but it's the holidays and I'm still... _single_ ," and she hates how she checks over her shoulders before saying it in hushed tones. As if her lack of lover was a cardinal sin automatically marking her as a failed woman- regardless of her success as a mother or career wise.

Ruby nearly chokes on her drink, "You know I was concerned you had an actual problem, not a midlife crisis-"

"I am hardly midlife, you dog," Regina interrupts debating if throwing her drink at her favorite bartender would ax said drink being on the house.

"Honestly, Reg, it's not a big deal. You're a single-mom, and a busy woman with- well, whatever it is you do." This has both women snickering.

"I've told you-"

"Unimportant," Ruby interrupts with an exaggerated hand motion, "because it's clearly not as interesting as tending a bar."

Regina lifts her glass, "Certainly not as entertaining." She finishes it off, a lone ice cube clanking around the cup.

"No, it's not that being alone is a bad thing, except that it is to my mother. And if I show up to Christmas dinner stag she's going to have some spare somebody waiting around to seduce me and I'm afraid I know this year's top candidate far too well."

"Ah," the taller woman nods, running her fingers over the red streak of color staining her strands. "And who is this year's eligible bachelor?"

"Sidney, Sidney Glass."

"Well, he's clearly awful, the name alone," Ruby says attempting support and Regina laughs. "Do you want any more?" The younger woman asks, eyeing the woman's drained drink.

"No, I'm cut off," Regina says pushing the cup away. "However, a water would be lovely."

Ruby bobs her head, clearing away the old cup and producing a new one before filling it to the brim with water. "I guess three glasses of scotch would be a bit much for someone going home to a child."

"Exactly," Regina replies.

There's a brief moment of silence as Ruby disposes of their drinking glasses, and sees to the queue of customers that had formed during their brief conversation.

"You know, Reg, if you're really dreading having to go home solo, there's always-"

"What I'm dreading is hearing this," the dark haired woman interrupts, rubbing at her temples.

Ruby furrows her brow, hands on her hips, "You know, maybe I won't help you, then."

And shit, now she feels awful. Having gone and actually hurt her friend's- can she call her favorite bartender at the bar she regulars a friend? No matter, she's offended the woman and that wasn't her intentions.

"No, I'm sorry- go on, Ruby," she encourages.

"I was just going to say, there's always craigslist," Ruby finishes, "I see ads looking for folks to pose as dates all the time. Sometimes there are even people volunteering to pose as dates to get the free meal."

"Sounds like a great way to meet a serial killer or a felon," Regina remarks.

"Which is the deal breaker?" Ruby teases.

Regina chews on her bottom lip, pushing the glass between her hands. "Depends on if the serial killer is gonna include me and my son in his rampage, because otherwise serial killer, dysfunctional family-" she groans and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "That was such a terrible thing to insinuate."

Ruby is cackling, "Doesn't make it any less funny, Reg." The bartender is fiddling on Regina's phone when she glances up. "Look it's easy to put an ad out there!" The slender woman shoves the phone into her hands.

 _Seeking a date for the end of the world (Christmas with my family) will be fed, have decent entertainment (years of suppressed familial issues that surface with alcohol) and get to claim they're dating my hot piece of ass. Serious inquiries only._

"Ruby! I can't post this! I _won't!_ " She argues, dropping the phone like it might bite her.

"Careful!" Ruby hisses as she gathers the phone up, "And you can and-" she presses a button, smiling triumphantly at Regina. "And now you _did._ "

Regina groans, staring down into her glass of water. "There are no words in the English language to accurately describe how much I hate you, right now."

"You'll thank me later," Ruby assures her with a smooch of her lips in the older woman's direction.

"No tengo el chichi pa farolillos," Regina curses at her.

"Shit, I've brought out the Latina Mami, now," the girl goads and Regina has the right mind to give her more than a cookie.

"I'm going," Regina retorts, ripping her phone back from Ruby and storming away from the bar.

"Te amo, Regina," Ruby calls after her.

"Tonta juera," is all she replies, letting the bar door cling shut behind her.

Regina stops on her walk home for a smoke. She never smokes- _hardly_ smokes- but she's been drinking and the talk of the holidays has wound her up again despite the liquor. She's standing arms crossed in the alley outside her apartment building, back to bricks, eyes closed, trying to think of why she ever quit smoking. _Henry._

The puffs of smoke swirling in the cold air before her almost as intoxicating as the scotch. Maybe this wasn't as bad an idea as she thought. Maybe some lonely college student searching for a nice place and a free plate would take her up on the offer.

Or maybe a convicted felon would, Regina reminds herself as she takes another hit. Maybe a perfectly chiseled college boy would see her offer and fail horribly under mother's ask-22 of questions and expose her in the middle of Christmas dinner. Make her the laughing stock, and prove Mary Margaret the better daughter once and for all.

Mary Margaret who was already married and had a toddling son she stayed at home with. Always putting dinner on the table at five, and being ready for her husband by nine.

 _Come on Regina,_ she curses, grimacing as she rubs at her collarbones. _Be reasonable._

But she can already hear her mother's snide remarks. The critique on how her physique has changed this year, and while she can assure herself with facts and figures that absolutely nothing has changed, Cora's words will warp her reflection.

Another year of reminders at how she is failing Henry by not giving him a father, and how selfish of her to continue flouncing about while he grows up with only her. As if, she's more of a curse to her son than a beneficiary.

Obviously Regina could not be enough for Henry. Henry, who she hadn't intended to raise alone when she adopted him. Henry, who had only known his father for a brief month before the universe whisked away Daniel to war- and six more months before war took him, too.

Sure, that first month dealing with the grief of losing her husband and a colicky infant that wouldn't sleep through the night had broken her worse than eighteen years beneath her mother. Pushed her to taking her son in a exhausted stupor back to the adoption agency, set on letting this child have his best chance with someone who could give him more.

Partly because her subconscious had blamed the child for somehow, someway causing Daniel's demise and the rest because of her mother's biting words, assuring her that there's no way she could survive as a single mother.

But she hadn't, the minute her hand had left the child carrier she felt the absence hit her, and she knew. Henry was _her son._ She had barely survived losing Daniel, there was no way she could survive losing her son.

Regina had curled her fingers triumphantly around the handle and picked him back up. Cora be damned, she was Henry's mother and now she was all he had. Henry wasn't about to lose her, too.

And after that minor breakdown, she had barely been able to forgive herself. Scheduled weekly meetings with the finest therapist she could find, and threw herself into her work. Promising Henry that she would never fail him again, like she did on that day so long ago.

And now ten years later, she had a boy so bright he went to the finest institution New York City had to offer. Surrounded by a plethora of friends and male role models, and he never once felt abandoned by her (at least to her knowledge).

But no- she, Regina Mills was still not enough for her son because she didn't have a man's arm to tote on or the title of wife.

"Geez, Mills, what did that cigarette do to you?" Neal's voice pulls her from her stupor.

Her brows scrunch in momentary confusion before she realizes her fingers were near crushing the cigarette she was hitting off of.

"Ah, nothing yet, but I'm thinking ahead," she assures him, letting the ruined smoke burn out against the wall, and starting over to the soil patch near the back of the alley to bury it.

"Anything you wanna, wanna...uh...talk about?" Neal asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and changing his weight from the balls of his feet.

Regina is crouching over her successfully buried cigarette bud, and wipes at a pesky stray curl that fell over her eyes. "You're oddly interested in me, today, Mr. Cassidy."

"That's not true, Regina, you know I'm always interested in Henry's mother," he says in that familiar husky voice of his.

Over the years Regina had come to look at Neal as somewhat of a parenting consult. He'd been spending so much time with Henry, taking him off her hands every Saturday for their "man-time", helping assist Belle with Henry's homework, which she wasn't sure was about her son as it was about Belle. Always coming over for holidays, he'd be the perfect pick for her to couple up with, but she just- couldn't.

He was a friend and despite the countless nights she had laid awake trying to convince herself to be into him in _any_ way for the sake of her son. She never could. She was a broken woman, if not emotionally, then surely sexually. Probably why she was still single and the opposite of sexually active (minus a brief episode with Graham during a very dark time for her) nearly ten years after the death of Daniel.

"I'm fine, just thinking," Regina confesses straightening up. "Do you think Henry's okay?"

"Did something happen? Did he say something-" Neal's voice changes to a sense of urgency, as he rushes towards her.

"No, Neal, he's fine- sorry, I'm just thinking about things Cora's said," she brushes it off. "The holiday blues."

"Regina, Henry's a great kid. I've known him since he was what- three? Four years old? He's amazing," Neal tells her and it's not anything she doesn't know but hearing reaffirmations from someone else- it's nice. "And he owes that all in part to his incredible mom."

"I know."

"Cocky, now?" Neal shakes his head. "Glad I could raise your ego back to normal."

"Always a pleasure, Neal," she says tipping an imaginary hat. "You're a great neighbor."

"I try to earn my keep with beautiful ladies, although normally when there's an unexpected kid it's a bad thing."

"Good evening, Mr. Cassidy, I have to go relieve Belle," Regina thanks him again for the kind words before ducking out of the alley and climbing up the stairs into her apartment building.

"Mom!" Henry exclaims, popping up from the couch where he had been sitting with Belle.

"Hey, buddy!" Regina drops her bag on the counter, opening her arms to accept her son. "How was your day?"

"It was so fun, Mom! We went to Bryant Park and then to- um-"

"Shhhh! Henry! Don't spoil Christmas for your Mum!" Belle interrupts, walking over to faux scold him.

Regina quirks a brow, "Ah, Christmas shopping were you?"

Henry giggles, nodding his head at her. "But no peeking! Or guessing! Or snooping! You have to wait until Christmas!"

"Well, thank goodness that's only a few days away!" She smiles complacently.

Regina presses her lips to Henry's head, centering herself on the familiar scent of him before sending him along back to his video games. "Was he okay?"

"Always is," Belle says with her usual too-cheery smile. "And I even got him to choose to quit playing his video games and read for a bit, briefly but still."

"Impressive," she commends writing the weekly check for Belle's services. "Thank you as always for all that you do and- Henry, can you go get Belle her present from under the tree?"

"Oh, Regina, you didn't have to-"

"You save my ass on the daily and watch over the most precious thing I have," she informs her nanny, "I _had_ too."

Henry races back to the front hallway and displays the holiday themed bag. "Merry Christmas!"

"Why thank you, kind sir," Belle says, taking the bag, "A very Happy Christmas to you, as well."

"Merry Christmas, Belle!" Regina chimes in, "And thank you, not just today, but you know- for always being there for my son and for me."

"Of course. Happy Christmas," Belle waves, ducking out of the apartment and heading home. "I'll see you next year."

"Next year," she agrees.

Once Henry has been fed, bathed and tucked into bed Regina is finally alone. _E!_ marathon of the real housewives of somewhere and a glass of wine in her hand. Her and Henry's suitcases are spread out on the floor waiting for her to work up the willpower to pack. They leave for her mother's in two days, she really should start packing.

Regina sips at the wine, momentarily debating if this qualifies her as an alcoholic since it's her third drink of the night (and then immediately discredits the thought). She's about to get up and start at the bare minimum folding clothes from the clean basket to pack when her phone pings.

 _New e-mail from interested party on Craigslist._

" _Ruby!_ Hijo de la gran puta, te doy una hostia que te visto de torero!" Regina curses aloud, slamming her wine glass down as she stares at the notification.

She's about to hit ignore but Cora's voice is there, in the back of her mind. _Why don't you ever think about your son? Henry_ needs _a father, Regina. It's just selfish of you deprive him like this._

She exhales, gripping the stem of her glass and chugging the remainder of her wine before opening up the email.

 _Hi, um, I'm not really sure what I should put here but I'm interested and I'm not- like a serial killer or anything. The opposite kind of, I'm a- well, it doesn't really matter. I'm twenty- eight if that matters, but um. Yea, I don't really know what's driven me to respond to this, other than I mean I normally spend the holidays alone and I could use some drama in my life._

- _bugsandbiceps23_

Regina wasn't sure what to do now. She never thought someone would actually reply, the offer didn't even have any money attached to it. And this person- _bugsandbiceps23-_ claimed they weren't a serial killer but isn't that exactly what a serial killer would say? And what would she say to Henry?

She could never do this without lying to her son or asking him to lie for her, and she wouldn't. Yet, here she was staring at the response, hitting respond. _Regina Mills, I hope you know what you're doing._

 _To: bugsandbiceps23_

 _I would love to meet up for coffee sometime to assess our personalities and talk more in person. See for myself that you're not a serial killer (or die and see that you in fact,_ are) _. Are you free to meet up sometime tomorrow?_

 _-henrydaniel15_

Regina turns her phone off after that, telling herself she'll respond in the morning when she is of more sound and sober mind. Intent on spending what little is left of the night getting one of the suitcases packed.

By the time she curls under her blankets that night, neither suitcases are packed but she's properly warm from wine and the clothes are folded on the table. Her mind still racing from whatever tomorrow's possibility of a coffee meet up has in store for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So sorry it took so long, and then FF net kept glitching with the update, but hopefully everything is resolved now. I fought with this chapter like it was a bad partner. All mistakes/errors are mine because I'm currently without a beta and I am a falliable human who can miss things. Also the characters are not mine, and there shouldn't be any Spanish that needs to be translated in this chapter (or Spanish at all lol) but if there is, message me and I'll let ya know. Thank you to everyone for the reviews and follows/faves, I appreciate it! Enjoy!**

Emma Swan enjoys living alone. She finds herself most at home in the silence of her apartment, hidden away from the world. Always one who felt out of place at large gatherings, preferring to study the drink in her hand and scout out possible pets.

Things were easier this way, people do not connect well with her...type. Dark and twisty people are aptly suited for living alone in the tangles of their own briar patches.

Emma strokes back a long, golden strand of hair from in front of her shoulders. Readjusting her beanie, she debates the red plaid over the blue flannel; deciding on the red after a bit. She turns her hips, studying her ass in these new jeans. A smug grin growing on her face.

Merry Christmas, she thinks triumphantly, leaving her bedroom. Another successful year of gift giving. She never disappoints herself.

She cracks her knuckles, rolling her neck as she walks over to the counter where she's been brewing her evening pot of coffee. Another late night brewing on the horizon, her current case a missing teen- suspected runaway. The parents had tracked her down, taken her out to a nice restaurant where they presented quite the lump sum incentive.

Their kid was a pretty girl. Bright eyes that reflected the light from warmer days, flecks of deep brown married with lighter hues; eyes that hadn't seen the evil of the world. Olive toned skin, that the salmon of her tunic complemented so well and dark luxurious curls falling over her shoulders.

The back of the photograph had Lily written across it.

She looked the type of girl Emma would have hated as a teenager. A picture perfect cutout from Family magazine, a kid who would have a family found on the Hallmark channel. At her age she had come to learn that people are hardly as black and white as they seem.

Judging by the severity of the kid's parents- their relentless instruction in finding her and bringing her home no matter the cost- she suspected Lily may think the only way is to flee. But she knew life out on the streets, life alone, it was almost never better than what a person was running from.

Sometimes it was just the lesser of two evils.

Stay out of it, Emma reminds herself, taking a breath to center. Her emotions and opinions were of no importance, she only need follow the orders. Find Lily and bring her back.

She grabs the freshly brewed pot of coffee, pouring herself out a cup and sliding onto her stool. She pops open her laptop, her collected research from the previous night open and waiting for her.

From what she's read, Lily is quite the pro at running away. Her mother, a tight lipped, chin raised, proper posture type, waved it off as part of her daughter's innate "troubled personality".

Emma understood not wanting to be found, but it wasn't her job to sympathize. And unfortunately for all the folks in her cases, she knew just about every trick in the book for running away.

She minimizes her notes document, moving the mouse to open a new web browser. If Lily is out on the streets again she is more than likely scouring for a cheap place to stay.

According to her parents, Lily did not have much on her. A small duffel, enough for her phone, a charger, change of clothes, and all the cash in her father's sock drawer. Which if Lily's mother's voice was any indication, was a hefty amount.

The webpage loads, Craigslist. She combs through the recently posted ads, trying to picture herself in Lily's position. Which isn't hard- but she was in the girl's shoes pre-smart phones.

There's a few calls for roommates that she flags, messaging them with faux interest. Intent on questioning them in person so the information is untraceable to anyone but her.

She's scrolling down the list, ready to close the window and move on when a new ad jumps out at her.

Seeking a date for the end of the world (Christmas with my family) will be fed, have decent entertainment (years of suppressed familial issues that surface with alcohol) and get to claim they're dating my hot piece of ass. Serious inquiries only.

Posted by user, she squints, henrydaniel15. Seems like the jarring advert a runaway would respond to; free meal, roof, and a possibly self destructive relationship with a man. She clicks the inquiry button almost instantly, and typing out a quick message.

She needs to sound convincing, people do not respond to shams. Lucky for her, Emma has been playing roles since she was a child carrying her trash bag of belongings from house to house. She can certainly assume the role of "interested date seeker".

Hi, um, I'm not really sure what I should put here but I'm interested and I'm not- like a serial killer or anything. The opposite kind of, I'm a- well, it doesn't really matter. I'm twenty- eight if that matters, but um. Yea, I don't really know what's driven me to respond to this, other than I mean I normally spend the holidays alone and I could use some drama in my life.

Signed, sealed, delivered. She closes her laptop lid and heads out to look over the prostitutes and pimps of Murray Hill in the city. One last swig of coffee, and she tosses the mug into her sink, letting the door slam shut behind her.

Emma tugs her jacket tighter around her sides as she rounds the corner, stepping out onto 49th street. There are two women lingering, staying back against the brick of a building keeping to each other. The women's eyes wandering the faces of passerby-ers.

She made eye contact with the smaller woman. A brunette, whose curly locks were lackadaisically pinned. The girl had a tight blue lace dress, the fabric clinging to her curves and ending mid-thigh.

"Hey," Emma whistles at her, strutting over to the coupled women.

They don't speak, gauging the situation to see if she is an undercover cop or interested clientele. The other woman, taller and auburn haired.

"Can we help you?" She sneers, almost protectively. Her green dress so tight her chest practically spills out.

"I think you can," Emma counters, thumbs in her pockets. "I'm looking for a girl," she produces a small photo of Lily. "Seen her?"

"We don't talk to cops," the smaller woman spits out.

Emma smiles, stepping closer, sauntering over the girl. She presses her back against the wall, her lips brushing against the woman's ear as she speaks. "It's a good thing I'm not a cop then."

She releases the woman, who recovers with the help of the redhead. The taller woman nods at the picture, "Show us the girl again."

Emma gives them the photograph, rather pleased with her handiwork and leans back. "I'm glad you saw it my way."

She pulls out a pack of Marlboros from her back pocket, popping the lid and removing a cigarette, she extends it towards them. "Smoke?"

They take several and stuff them in their corsets. She puts the pack away, and throws up her lighter, offering the flame for the other women to hit first.

Emma waits, and then taps her cigarette to the flame, inhaling sharply and letting out the first breath of smoke.

The women smoke a bit more in silence, before Emma speaks again. "Do you recognize the girl?"

The redhead leans over the smaller woman, ripping the photograph from her yellowed fingers in a sudden fit of passion. "She seems familiar."

How wonderfully inconclusive, Emma thinks forcing her face to remain emotionless. She gives a small nod of acknowledgement.

"But I don't think she got wrapped up in the likes of us, right, Lacy?"

The smaller woman, Lacy, looks over now, eyes narrowing as she nods. "Yea, no, we'd've known her by now. Gold always puts the pretty ones here."

"Higher crowds here, prettier faces equal more profit," the other woman offers as explanation.

Emma almost sighs in relief. At least the child hasn't gotten herself tangled up in world of trafficking, well, hasn't yet. Not that Emma thinks poorly of these women, rather more against the idea of it being forced by pimps than consensual.

"Here's my card," she produces two identical business cards, with her office information, and alias. Her clients often bringing her in touch with quite the spectrum of criminals, so she hid her true identity for protection. "Call me if she shows up here, yea?"

The women stuff the cards away and nod, casting glances over their shoulders.

"I won't risk anymore of your time, thank you both for cooperating," and with that she's turning on her heels, speeding back to where she had parked her car around the corner.

When Emma reaches her apartment, tucked safely behind the walls of her bedroom she has several responses to her earlier inquiries. She responds to a few before powering down her phone and rolling over, attempting sleep.

Regina wakes abnormally early the next morning. Her phone the elephant in the room because she knows the craigslist user will have responded by now. She's almost afraid- not almost, is afraid to check it and cannot bring herself to pinpoint why.

She carries her phone with her into the kitchen, leaving it to rest on the table while she ties an apron around herself debating what she can whisk up for breakfast.

When Henry pops out of his bedroom, soft footsteps padding down the hall to her, she's halfway through her second batch of apple pancakes.

"Good morning," she greets with a warm grin reserved for her little prince.

"G'morning," Henry says, rubbing at his eyes and scooting onto a kitchen chair. "Why the fancy breakfast?"

Regina laughs, "It's hardly fancy, only pancakes."

"Still," Henry presses not fooled. "Normally, we just eat cereal or fruit on school days."

"Quite the detective I have," she comments and he puffs his chest out. She places a plate of pancakes in front of him, setting the syrup down in the center of the table and pressing her lips into his hair.

She sits down, trying to distract herself with small talk but her eyes keep wandering back to her phone. After Henry's at school, she assures herself. She can function with deadlines and now she has given herself one. She can breathe now. Yes, breathe, Regina.

"Are you feeling okay, Mom?" Henry asks her finally.

She glances up at him, her eyes catching his, a dark brown so similar to his she sometimes forgets he's not from her own flesh and bone.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," she brings her cup of coffee to her lips, trying to hide the forced smile.

"You sure? You look like you do when Grandma comes over?" And she can never get anything past her bright boy.

"You're right, I'm not okay, but it's nothing for you to worry about. Just a little holiday stress, not anything that won't go away," she clears her plate, dropping it in the sink and snatching her phone up in her hand.

"Now come on, you're going to be late and it's your last day of school this semester."

She waves at Henry one last time before he is a blur in the subway. Her phone resting against her chest like a brick. Like a bandaid, she assures herself, bringing her phone down and opening up her emails.

Bugsandbiceps23: Sure, deal. We can meet at the Gregory's Coffee house on Madison Ave, what's a time that works for you?

Regina smiles, Gregory's is one of her favorite coffee places in the city, and on the rare occasions she is ahead of schedule, she makes a point to get off the subway early to retrieve some. Unfortunately, mothers are rarely ever running early.

henrydaniel15: See you then, 1:30pm work? Beat the morning rush of commuters.

The reply back is near instant.

bugsandbiceps23: See you then.

Regina smiles to herself and finally lets her phone simply rest in her pocket.

Regina spends the morning finishing the packing she procrastinated the night before. After the suitcases had been tucked away and perfectly put together, she had moved on to dusting. A simple task she often found herself doing when her stress levels were near crippling.

Busywork for the hands, a distraction for her ever-wandering mind. Noon arrives and she toys with something like a salad- washed spinach leaves and some leftover grilled chicken tossed in a bowl, before she heads to her closet.

The door is wide open, and visually she may have plenty of choices, she still has nothing to wear. What does one wear to meet up with a potential faux beau anyway? Not for the first time another stream of curses leaves her lips, out for Ruby's eternal soul.

Cora raised Regina with a hard to find, and possibly damaging, respect for putting up appearances. One simply cannot show up to a function looking like it is just another day. The only place one should be caught dead wearing comfort clothes is the home, and even then Regina managed to wear jeans and a version of the same cotton shirt.

She prowls through her wardrobe a few more times, fingers feeling fabrics as her eyes scan, searching for whatever color speaks to her today.

Red.

Regina adjusts the polyester folds around her form, straightening out wrinkles that aren't really there, and triple checking herself in the mirror. Yes, this looks nice. Cora would like how it highlights her valuable assets- breasts and bum.

Luckily today was a good day for her, she had no signs of bloating and her hands hadn't been feverish. No night sweats waking her up last night, she would be fine. This she was thankful for as the form fitting fabric promised to be unforgiving if something were to change.

She'll have a light snack at the coffee shop, or perhaps it would be best to avoid food altogether there. A nice tea with lemon would be easier on her system than a coffee, and she could always snack on fruit when she returned home if she was hungry.

Yes, this would be fine.

Regina hurries over to the bathroom and fusses over her hair. Rubbing a leave in condition across her palms and attempting taming her unkempt curls. She didn't want to put on a full face of makeup, her knuckles paling as she gripped the counter.

You have to be presentable, Regina reminded herself through clenched teeth as she moved to clean herself up. Nails dragging the zipper to her make up bag as if possessed.

She checked the clock. 12:30pm. She still had time.

After properly polishing herself up, and a few hair changes, Regina forces herself to leave her apartment. The subway gods are working in her favor and when she reaches Gregory's she has managed to run ahead. Of course.

The coffee shop is fairly empty apart from the two employees bickering amongst each other behind the counter. She toys with a pesky strand of hair fallen forward over her eyes, and debates whether she is supposed to wait for the other person- bugsandbiceps23, before she orders anything.

Tucking the hair back behind her ear, Regina steps up to order her usual. Besides, she had already made awkward eye contact with the plumper barista- no backing out now.

"How can I help you?"

Regina checks her watch, 1:35pm, and smiles up at the barista. "Uh, a cafe cubano, regular, and you use demerara sugar, right?" The barista appears lost, her mouth parting to ask her a follow-up but Regina explains before she can, "Brown sugar?"

The girl- Kate, according to her name tag, nods, "I can do that for you."

"Excellent, thank you, Kate," she says, fishing around in her purse for her wallet. "And can you drop the sugar when you drip the coffee, it makes a froth and I-" when she looks up to hand the over her money and Kate is lost again. "You know what, just make it the shop way."

Kate handles her money, and Regina attempts what she hopes is an easy going smile when the barista slides her change across the counter. "Thank you."

The shop bell dings, and Regina glances over her shoulder. A striking woman stepping through the frame. Blonde hair licking at her shoulder blades, and busy green eyes, never stilling, taking in her surroundings like an animal on the defense. Her black blouse hugs her skin, revealing a bit of chest and prominent collarbones. Regina forces herself to look away before the woman catches her staring and thinks her rude.

She distracts herself by shooting bugsandbiceps23 a message.

henrydaniel15: Hey! I'm at Gregory's, I'll be the one sipping the cafe cubana in a corner booth.

Sent. She drops her phone back into her purse, repressing the thoughts of nights long ago with Mal. A romance her mind often remembers after the onslaught of a beautiful woman.

Emma made it to the cafe with five minutes to spare. She had overslept and woken up to two missed calls from potential clients. She did not have time to stress over appearances, and frankly, it didn't matter. This wasn't a serious inquiry. A simple gathering of information, and while that was easier accomplished whilst playing along, this would simply have to do.

The coffee shop is mostly empty, a pair of baristas, a dark haired woman who looked to be in her early thirties, and a couple of college students tucked away in a back corner. She finishes aimlessly scouring her facebook profile and opens her emails.

Sure, enough it's from user henrydaniel15.

She reads it over, tucking her phone away in her back pocket and wondering what the hell a cafe cubana when the universe seemingly answers her.

"Regina, Cafe Cubana," the shorter barista announces holding up a cup.

Emma glances around, but the only person who moves is the woman standing in front of her. No. It can't be? The user was henrydaniel15, what part of that implies a woman is behind it? The dark haired woman smiles, greeting the employee with a polite exchange of thanks before taking her cup.

The woman- Regina, that was her name. She turns, smiling as she catches Emma's stares. The dark haired woman moves, starting towards a seat when Emma reaches out. Her fingers grazing over the woman's arm, the contact stopping both of them in their tracks.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes almost instantly, retracting her hand and running it through her hair. "I just- you ordered a Cafe Cubana and-" she shakes her head. "This is ridiculous."

"Are you 'bugsandbiceps23'?" the other woman's voice is nice, commanding yet even tempered with a seductive rasp. It's nice.

Emma finds herself nodding in response, unable to form words properly.

"Well, this is an unexpected plot twist," Regina retorts, smirking at her. "Ruby is going to absolutely lose her mind."

"You're- well, uh, actually if I-"

"Sit," the woman's air is convincing and so she slides into the booth opposite of the older woman.

Emma fidgets with her fingers, unable to avoid the other woman's gaze. Her dark eyes taking her in from behind her drink.

"So, you're bugsandbiceps23," Regina states, a small smile toying with her lips. "I must admit, your user is quite misleading."

She scoffs at that, "Yeah, but henrydaniel15 totally screams femininity."

The brunette's brow quirks up, and she laughs. "Touché."

"I, uh, I actually reached out to you-"

"You know this whole time I've been thinking how tragic this is," Regina interrupts, her hands fidgeting with the gold band on her finger. "But now," the corners of her lips raise at that, forming a smirk so seductive and delicious it could only possibly be brought on by real emotions. "Now I think this might be perfect."

"Mother, well- she'll be gob smacked but her own assistant dabbled for a time and she knew of Mal, but Leopold," she laughs, and her eyes raise. The light dancing mischievously around her dark irises as the older woman stares at her. "Leopold will be horrified."

"Yes, well, actually-" Emma starts, tugging at her sleeves, as if a small pull could make her shirt large enough to hide within.

"Speak, dear, please."

"I'm a private investigator," she blurts out. "I- when I messaged you, it was- I thought maybe-" she takes out the small photograph of Lily and slides it across the table towards Regina. "I thought maybe she had reached out to you."

Regina's face drops. Her lips turning to frown as her fingers coast the edges of the picture, and no. Emma does not like watching her smile fade, at all.

"Is she missing?" Regina asks, eyes never leaving Lily's face.

She nods.

Regina brings her hand to conceal her gasp, eyes appearing to blink back tears. "How horrible. Her poor parents must be sick with worry, I know-"

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Emma interrupts with a chuckle.

Regina's eyes shoot up to hers. "Is something funny about a missing child, Miss-" her lips part then.

"Swan, Emma Swan," she gives Regina what the woman's looking for.

"Miss Swan," Regina finishes, a stubborn woman not to be thrown off the course.

"No," she assures the older woman. "Her parents just- they're tired. Lily runs away a lot, she was adopted and-"

Regina's hands drop to the table and the resounding clatter spooks Emma.

"Sorry," Regina apologizes. "It's just- my son was- is adopted and this- it's my worst fear, that he would-"

"Run away?"

"Yes," Regina responds and there's more to it, Emma can feel it, but the other woman seems content on leaving it at that and she won't push her.

"So," she starts up again, "have you seen her?"

"No, sorry," Regina slides the photograph back towards her. "I wish I could be of more help."

"It's alright, that's more my job to worry about," she jokes as she slides the picture back into her wallet.

"Do you know if she- the girl, knows who her birth parents are?"

Emma shakes her head, "I- uh, I didn't ask."

Regina nods, taking a slow sip from her coffee as she seemingly weighs this information. After a beat she speaks again, "Every child wants to know where they're from, because if they don't have that core value- I- well, I imagine they'd feel rather lost."

Emma finds herself fighting back the repressed memories of her upbringing- or almost, lack there of. There's truth to what Regina is saying, and she feels almost ashamed for not having thought of this sooner.

She never took into account that Lily's being adopted could have anything to do with it. She only saw the pampered life, the loving parents, and the house- a real family. Something she would never have run away from and this girl seems determined to escape.

"You're right," she manages, realizing that she ought to say something and not lose herself in her thoughts. "I'll call her parents after...this."

Regina smiles, "Well, I'm glad I managed to prove myself of some service. No matter how minor it may be."

The older woman takes another drag from her cup, scowling as she sets it down, muttering to herself about running out of coffee.

"So, Emma, are you still interested in accompanying me for the holidays? My mother's estate is up in Boston. A mere train ride away," Regina informs her, and she smirks because the woman is rambling.

She shouldn't, she really can't. And as much as she wants to stay with this intriguing creature of a woman, she just- can't.

She sighs, fingers touching briefly at her temples, "I'm sorry, but I-"

"I understand," the other woman's hands are covering hers, and the contact has her heart racing. Regina smiles, her eyes soft and inviting as she draws back her arms and pulls out a pen.

"Can I?" Regina asks, tugging at the blonde's sleeve.

She nods, watching as Regina scribbles away in her palm. Closing the younger woman's fingers over the writing when she's finished, like its a secret shared between them.

"My number, in case you-" Regina's brow arches as the woman glances over her one more time. "Change your mind about...anything."

"Thanks, uh," Emma starts, watching as Regina slides out of the booth.

She picks up her cup and purse, pausing to rest her hand on Emma's shoulder as she passes by. "Good luck with your search, Miss Swan. I wish you all the best."

And then she is watching the striking woman walk away, tossing her cup into the recycling bin and disappearing amongst the busy streets of New York City.

Emma glances down at her palm, uncurling her fingers and admiring the slant to Regina's script. A new found fascination for numbers growing in her chest, as she studies the phone number.


End file.
